“And that is why we want Edwin to help us to have a baby.”
The words, as spoken by our best friend and neighbour Nnamdi, hung in the air for seconds after he had spoken them. I think that I realised the meaning shortly before my wife Bisola, because I was able to see her expression change to shock as I looked at her.
Across the table from me, and seated to Bisola’s right, was Nnamdi’s wife and Bisola’s best friend, Chioma.
As Bisola caught my eye to express with her look how startled she was, I could see Chioma staring down at the table in embarrassment, not making eye contact with anyone.
I was the first to speak. “Nnamdi, surely you don’t mean…”
“That’s exactly what I –” He leaned forward to put his elbows on the table, then paused and looked over at Chioma.
“Sorry, what we, mean. Chioma is only going to have a chance of having a baby naturally if she has sex with another man, and…look, this is killing me to say this, but Chioma and I have talked about this at length and we want that man to be you, Edwin.”
I sat back and heard Bisola making a blowing sound, followed by the word “Wow.” That pretty much summed up my immediate reaction.
When Nnamdi and Chioma had invited us around for an evening meal earlier that day, we categorically had not been expecting this. The invitation to come round to theirs for food had been casually delivered by Nnamdi in a phone call, and we had readily accepted, knowing we could call on our regular babysitter at short notice.
The couple had been our best friends for over 9 years, and meals together at one another’s houses (always accompanied by a few bottles of wine) were a regular feature of our Friday’ nights.
Bisola and Chioma had met at university 15 years earlier, and indeed were still roommates when I had started dating Bisola 5 years after that. Nnamdi had come onto the scene a year after me, and shortly after he started dating Chioma we fell into our pattern of social foursomes.
Nnamdi and I had also become friends, and all of this was further cemented when we all got married within 3 months of each other 2 years later, Bisola and Chioma acting as head bridesmaids at each other’s wedding, and Nnamdi and I trading usher roles.
That was where things diverged, however. Bisola got pregnant on our honeymoon, on what must have pretty much been our first attempt. That news had been greeted with great joy by everyone we knew, including Chioma and Nnamdi, and I was able to joke happily that I was “1 for 1” when it came to the pregnancy hit rate.
Our first child was joined 2 years later by a second, again Bisola falling pregnant at what must have been the first attempt (so my new joke became “2 for 2”). It was around this time that Chioma first confided in Bisola that they had started trying to have a baby, but without success.
As time went on it started to become obvious to Bisola that this was beginning to upset Chioma, particularly when Bisola fell pregnant again two years later with the twins (yep, first attempt, but no public jokes this time).
Chioma and Nnamdi had become quite open with us both by then about the problems they were having conceiving, and it was around that time that they started getting medical advice.
It became quickly apparent from tests performed that the problem appeared to be Nnamdi, who had a sperm count which was so low that it made conception impossible. Chioma was diagnosed as perfectly fertile, which she later confided in Bisola made her all the more upset.
Following the diagnosis, the couple’s next action had been to try a sperm donor through IVF, and in the last two years they had gone through the process twice, but no eggs had been taken.
Indeed, Nnamdi had recapped all of this tale earlier tonight as we all sat at their dining room table.
“The doctors think that the physical stress of the process is getting too much for Chioma, and they do not recommend that we go through it again.” He had looked at Chioma as he was saying this.
Chioma had spoken up then. “I know I cannot go through that process and that disappointment again…but I just want my own baby! Why can’t I have a baby?”
Bisola had leaned forward at this point, squeezing her hand.
Before dropping his bombshell, Nnamdi had added. “Chioma is not ready to give up on being a natural mum, and we are not ready to think about adoption yet…look, the two of us have discussed this at length, and can we cut to the chase?”
“Of course,” answered Bisola, looking puzzled.
“Every test we have had tells us that Chioma is absolutely fine, and fertile,” said Nnamdi. “Therefore, if she was to have….” He paused and winced with embarrassment. “If she was to have sex with a virile man who had a healthy sperm count, in a situation which did not have the stress of an IVF procedure, well, we think she would be likely to get pregnant.”
He looked at Bisola and then at me, assessing our reactions, but the penny had not dropped at this point and we were both looking at him expectantly.
However, Chioma knew what was coming and her head went forwards in embarrassment, some of her black hair falling forwards over her face.
“If she went out and had sex with a stranger, it’s dangerous, and who knows what STDs they might be carrying. Therefore, we asked ourselves the question; who do we know that we trust, who is healthy, and whose virility is in no doubt?” He paused, then delivered the words “And that is why we want Edwin to help us to have a baby.”
After our initial shocked reaction and exchanges of conversation as recounted earlier, Bisola turned to look at Chioma and said, aggressively,
“Let me get this right…you are asking me to agree to you and Edwin having sex? To agree to him impregnating you with his sperm? To you having Edwin’s child? Am I understanding this right?”
Chioma still had not lifted her eyes. I could see her body shaking slightly as if she was on the verge of tears, and she answered without looking at Bisola.
“I am sorry Bisola…I should not have done this, should not have asked…I knew it was ridiculous to ask this, this will destroy our friendship…”
Nnamdi spoke up. “That is exactly what we are asking, Bisola. The two of you are our best friends, and I know how horrible this suggestion must make you feel, and believe me the thought of Chioma with any other man makes me feel awful…but we NEED this so much, we don’t know what else to do.”
There was silence after that. I certainly wasn’t going to be the first one to speak up, and I didn’t know how I felt about the whole situation.
Definitely uncomfortable. I looked at Bisola. The 33-year-old mother of my three children had a considering look on her face that surprised me since part of me had been expecting the announcement from her that we were leaving immediately and that the friendship was over.
Bisola was 5’8″ tall, with an attractive sensual face with clear brown eyes. She had a good body for a woman with three children, although it was not quite as athletic and hot as when we had first met (in that first three month period of fucking like rabbits) and was now more fleshy.
Bisola was the only woman I had fucked in the last 10 years, and was definitely the only woman I had ever shot my sperm into to make pregnant. Right now her ample 36C breasts were resting on her arms, which were folded in front of her as she leaned forward at the table with a quizzical expression.
I then looked at Chioma. Although they were as close as sisters, the two women were physically very different. Chioma was petite, maybe 5’2″, with a small frame and a lithe body. She had nd a very pretty face with exotic brown eyes.
Whereas Bisola’s breasts and body had filled out as a result of child-bearing, the 33-year-old Chioma had the trim physique of a woman 15 years younger than her, with small breasts and hips, and very bouncy buttocks.
Indeed, whereas Chioma had been carrying some “puppy fat” in the early years I had known her, she had really exercised to get into shape and tone up her body in recent years, probably partly with the objective of increasing her chances of motherhood.
Chioma happened to then glance up at me and found me looking at her before she flushed with embarrassment and quickly ducked her eyes again.
An image suddenly flashed into my mind, unbidden….Chioma beneath me, moaning, her body writhing under me as my cock slid into her…pleading for me to empty my cum into her…and I suddenly realised that I had been sexually evaluating Chioma as I looked at her, something that seemed very out-of-context with our long term platonic friendship.
Bisola then stood up, interrupting my unexpectedly erotic reverie. “We will think about it. Come on Edwin, we’re leaving.”
Bisola was quiet, reflecting on the conversation, as we walked back to our house. When she was in this mood I knew that the safest policy was to stay quiet, and given the subject matter the very safest policy was to say absolutely nothing. As such, we walked in silence.
When we got home and later got into bed having dismissed the babysitter and gone through our getting-ready-for-bed routine, she finally turned to me and started to talk about the conversation.
“Did you expect that?” she asked, with a slightly ironic grimace, which immediately put me at a greater level of ease that she was not about to explode with anger.
“Absolutely, 100%, no,” I replied, adopting a neutral expression. I had decided to be deliberately careful in this conversation, to see where she took it.
“God, imagine suggesting that,” she added. “You going with Chioma and making her pregnant. What a suggestion.” She looked troubled, however.
I took a deep breath but did not reply, lying on my side next to her.
“But….she and Nnamdi must be so sad to contemplate that,” she added. “This must be hurting them so much, to contemplate…you know, you doing it with Chioma.”
Silence and a serious contemplative look seemed to be the right pose for me to continue to maintain.
Bisola stared up at the ceiling for a second, then added, “But she made a call for help from me, her best friend, as the only person who can help her…and I feel really bad about the way I reacted.”
“How else could you be expected to react?” I replied. “It was a pretty outrageous suggestion.”
She then turned on her side to look at me, giving me a very piercing stare.
“Do you find Chioma attractive?” she asked.
“No, she’s not my type,” I answered immediately while maintaining eye contact, knowing that any other answer would be disastrous. “I mean, she is pretty I suppose if you like petite girls, but I don’t particularly. Besides, I have never thought about her that way, she has always been like a sister for all the time I have known you.”
This even sounded convincing to me, as I said it, and until about an hour ago was probably true. Chioma had always been in the category of someone I knew I would never have any sexual relationship with, and as such while she was very attractive, I had not had sexual thoughts about her since maybe the early days of me and Bisola.
But even as I said this, another image flashed into my mind…Chioma, bent over the side of my bed with my hands holding her hips, moaning erotically as I thrust my dick into her…
My God, I thought, it’s like the earlier proposition has flipped an erotic switch such that my suddenly adulterous mind keeps being assailed with thoughts of fucking my wife’s best friend. My cock twitched in my boxers, and I abruptly felt horny.
Bisola continued to stare at me for a few seconds. “I am thinking about agreeing to it,” she then said, dropping the second bombshell of the evening.
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